Dear Diary tonight is really hard…
How do you run from something that is invisible? How do you hide from what you cannot see?
I’ve come a long way on this road in my metaphorical car. I’ve hit many a speed bump and a pothole. Some of which damaged my suspension or ability to bounce back while others affected my steering causing a sense of loss of control but each time after maintenance I was back on the road.
Tonight is hard, really hard. I am trying my level best not to express my pain in unhealthy ways, so instead I’ve reached for my laptop.
As I drive along tonight on autopilot, thoughts are sticking, like flies to a windscreen. I know I’ve been in situations like this before but sometimes I get tired of washing the flies from the windscreen time after time and wish for once that I drove as smoothly as other cars.
Why have I to fight so hard just to be me? I know on other days I would know that this darkness would reveal light but right now it feels as though both my head lamps have blown with the prospect of no return. I’ve had to dig deep into the reserve tank of coping strategies tonight. The normal tools don’t appeal in fact they frustrate me.
Why can’t this be physical pain so I could take some painkillers? In fact it pisses me off that I can’t reach into the press of remedies and ease the pain.
I want to park the car and walk away until things are better but I know that is just the depression and anxiety talking wanting me to give up on the journey.
Dear Diary tonight I am going to grin and bare the pain and wait for it to pass. Wish me luck, Cat x
The morning after…
Dear Diary, I have woken up today in a much better place. The waves started to pass late last night. As I prepare for tonight’s Mental Health Twitter Hour, which I run every Sunday, the articles I read online hit deeper than they normally would, so I need to be careful what I let in today.
I am sensitive and vulnerable but at least I can see out my windscreen. Today I will carry out regular maintenance checks, such as filling up with fuel, including much needed chocolate. I will spend the day treading lightly on my tyres until they are fully inflated again.
After last night’s darkness and hopelessness has come creativity and this morning I ooze inspiration. My headlamps are back on, shining brightly.
I count myself lucky. I have made it to this morning by having the correct safety and coping mechanisms in place. Many others may not be so lucky and this worries me more than you will ever know. I worry about those that think poor mental health will never come their way. Just as they could fall and break a leg, the same can happen to their mental health.
Final word to you the reader…
I’m like Jerry Springer – If you take only one thing from this diary entry, please consider putting a first aid kit together for your mental health and your families. Look up what services are around you and what resources. You may only have to look as far as your garden to find grounding and peace but every little helps and finding services you are comfortable with can be priceless in a time of need.
“Take care of yourselves and each other,” as Jerry Springer said after all.